


Where Angels Fear to Tread

by BeggarWhoRides



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medical Procedures, Post-3x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeggarWhoRides/pseuds/BeggarWhoRides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-S3 finale. Spoilers for 3x10.</p>
<p>For trauma surgeon Meera Rand, it was an normal day. Long, but normal.</p>
<p>Then they brought in an unidentified woman who'd been shot in a parking garage, and nothing was normal anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Most of my medical knowledge comes from Grey's Anatomy. Apologies for that in advance, and warnings for medical procedures and an implied/referenced suicide attempt.

“Jane Doe, gunshot wound to the abdomen. Some visitor to DYAD found her slumped against his car.” 

“Jeez.” Doctor Meera Rana winced, snapping on her surgical gloves. “I’m surprised DYAD even let the ambulances in to get her. That place gives me the creeps--it seems like the kind of place you get into and never come out of.” 

Next to her, Meera’s best friend, Doctor Dawn Newmann, snorted. “It’s a research institute. You’re a _trauma_ surgeon. How can they freak you out?” 

“I don’t know. Something to do with all that glass and chrome. Feels like they’re hiding something.”

“Whatever you say.” Dawn craned her neck to look around the ambulance bay as the sirens got closer. “You know, I’ve got this one, if you wanna--” 

“Are you kidding?” Meera stepped forward, wind whipping at her ponytail. “You operated on three car crash vics today while I got stuck on drunk duty. Like hell I’m gonna let you take this one too.” 

The ambulance pulled in and Meera jogged forward, not noticing the frown on Dawn’s face.

“What’ve we got?” 

“Not good,” called one of the paramedics as they unloaded the gurney. “Shot was a through-and-through, but pulse is weak and thready. Suspected massive internal hemorrhage, and we don’t know how long she was in the garage before our guy found her.”

“Hypothermia?” 

“Not quite, but she’s pretty chilled.” 

“It probably helped her this time,” Meera muttered, eyeing the mass of red gauze packed around the woman’s right side. “Let’s call surgery, get an OR prepped, and get her inside. Do we know anything about her?” 

The paramedic shook his head. “Guy who called didn’t leave his name or hers. No idea what she was even doing in the parking garage.” 

Gunshot wounds were unfortunately common at Sampson Hospital, though this woman didn’t fit the usual profile of gang members or drug dealers. Blonde, in heels and, Meera noted as they cut through her shirt, wearing clothes that would be pricey even with her own surgeon’s salary, this woman looked more heroine than heroin addict.

But this wasn’t the time to wonder about her story, Meera scolded herself, as she probed the woman’s abdomen. It was time to make sure this wasn’t where her story ended.

“Get me four more units of o-neg, set up the rapid infuser and let the OR know we’re heading up. Bleeding’s coming from her liver, I’ll bet, and we need to get it under control. Get her prepped!” Meera ripped off her trauma gown as she spoke, already jogging to the elevators that would take her up to the OR when she stopped short, Dawn blocking her path.

“You mind if I scrub in?” 

“No,” Meera said, ducking around her friend as she spoke. “Just don’t slow me down.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dawn smirked, punching the up button for the elevator.

“You know what? I’m just gonna take the stairs.” 

“Seriously Mee?” 

“I’ll see you up there!” She managed to keep her tone light, even as her mind was already focused on the surgery ahead, and a few moments later she was pinning her thick black hair underneath a scrub cap and slipping into surgical scrubs. 

Something felt off about this--something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. What she had to do was straightforward--open the woman up, stop the bleeding, stitch her back up. 

A nagging feeling at the back of her mind said it was going to be tricker than that.

“Ready to scrub in, Mee?” 

Meera blinked away the feeling and turned to grin widely at her friend.

“Always, Dawnie.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another four units!”

“Doctor, we’ve already replaced her entire blood volume.” 

“Damnit, damnit, damnit,” Meera hissed, hands wrist-deep in Jane Doe’s abdominal cavity. Alarms filled the operating room, their flashing visible out of the corner of her eye. “I can’t find the bleeder.” 

“Doctor Rana--” 

“Get more suction, I need to _see--”_

“Mee.” Meera stopped and looked up to see Dawn’s eyes, silver grey and sad, across from hers. “Maybe you need to let this one go.” 

“Like hell,” Meera scoffed. “More lap pads over here, and hang more units, _now!”_

“Mee, don’t do this to yourself--” 

“Got it.” With a decisive twist, she clamped a torn artery that had been nearly impossible to see. “There’s the bleeder. Let’s see if that--” 

“She’s crashing!” 

Meera cursed, abandoning the liver and nearly knocking a nurse over as she started chest compressions. “What the hell just happened?” 

“Bag her!” 

“Where the hell is the crash cart? _Where is the crash cart?!”_

“Here, Doctor.” A petite nurse shoved Dawn out of the way, and Meera stepped back immediately. “Clear!” 

Jane Doe’s body jerked against the table, a few wisps of blonde hair escaping the cap on her head. 

“No change.” 

“Charge to 250,” Meera ordered, climbing back into position. “Come on, Jane Doe,” she muttered, starting compressions again. “Don’t you dare give up now.” 

“Clear!” 

The blonde jerked again, harder this time.

“No change, Doctor.” 

“Charge again.” Her arms burned as she leaned into each compression, but Meera ignored it, staring instead at what she can see of the unconscious woman’s face

“You’re not finished yet,” she whispers, too low for the other doctors and nurses to hear. She’s not sure where the words are coming from, only that they feel right, and so she lets them take over. “You’re still needed. You’re still loved. You don’t get to do this now.” 

“Clear!” one of the nurses calls, and Meera lifts her hands from the woman’s chest, the strange spell broken. The woman’s body arcs and crashes back down onto the table. 

The monitor flatlines for an endless instant, and then--

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

“We have sinus rhythm.” 

Meera closed her eyes and sighed, a relieved grin growing on her face. 

“Good work, people. Let’s get her closed up and out of here.” She glanced at the woman’s face again. “And maybe find out who she is.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Get some rest, Mee.”

“Jesus.” Meera sat bolt upright in the uncomfortable hospital chair, one hand pressed to her chest. “God, Dawnie, you startled me.” 

“Sorry,” the blonde said unapologetically, holding out a styrofoam cup. 

“Coffee?” 

“Tea,” the brunette replied, snorting at Meera’s unhappy expression. “I’m not giving you caffeine at midnight when you aren’t even on call.” 

“I’ll be on call in a couple hours anyway,” Meera groaned, taking the tea anyway and wrapping her hands around the warmth. 

“All the more reason to sleep now.” 

“Yeah, well if I’m too tired to operate, I’ll just make Peterson do it. He still owes me for covering his shift two weeks ago.” 

“How’s your Jane Doe?” 

“No change.” They both glanced over at the unconscious figure whose hospital room they were in. “I still can’t figure out why she crashed in surgery either.” 

“Sometimes these things happen.” Dawn glanced at the still untouched tea in Meera’s hand, and back at the unconscious woman. “Go home. Get some actual sleep.” 

“I’m gonna stay until she wakes up,” Meera replied, shaking her head. “Nobody’s even made any inquiries yet. I don’t think anyones looking for her. She shouldn’t wake up alone.” 

Dawn sighed, laying a hand on Meera’s shoulder. “You’re such a softie, Mee. It’s gonna get you in trouble someday.” 

“Stop mothering me and get back to work, slacker,” Meera retorted and Dawn laughed, tugging on Meera’s thick braid before heading toward the door. Meera’s just settled back into the chair when Dawn paused, turning back around.

“I’m serious. Go home. Just for a few hours. It’ll be good for you, Mee.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Meera said, squinting at her best friend’s face. “Is everything okay, Dawnie?” 

“It’s fine,” Dawn reassured her quickly, before her pager interrupted. “Damn. 911, I gotta go. I’m serious about going home and getting some rest, okay?” 

“Okay,” Meera said, and Dawn smiled gratefully before dashing down the hall. Meera frowned, and went to take a sip of her tea before she stopped, grimacing. 

“Green tea. She always forgets I hate green tea.” The Jane Doe on the bed, of course, said nothing, and Meera set the cup down with a sigh.

“Who are you?” she asked rhetorically, trying to fill the empty air. “Who gets shot in the parking lot of a research institute, anyway? It seems like a crime more suited for an alleyway or something, if you ask me. Maybe you’re just special. Speaking of crime, the police should be here soon to investigate--I don’t know why they weren’t here last night. If you could wake up before they get here, it’d be really helpful.” 

Meera cut herself off, brow furrowing. Why _hadn’t_ the police come last night, to ask questions if nothing else? Gunshot victims were usually top priority--to get the shooter off the streets, if nothing else.

_Maybe they don’t want this shooter off the streets,_ Meera thought, before snorting and shaking her head. She’d watched too many late night crime shows.

“I’m going to examine you now, alright?” For lack of anything else to do, Meera stood and slipped on a pair of sterile gloves. “I’m going to see if your pupils are equally reactive.” 

As gently as she could, she opened each of the woman’s eyes, flashing her penlight over each of them and watching the pupils expand and contract. 

“Your reactivity’s good,” she said, stepping back and stashing the light in her pocket. “So, straight blonde hair, light brown eyes, I’m going to guess 25 years old? Slender build,” she continued, gently peeling back the dressing to look at the wound. “And no infection or inflammation so far, well done.” 

“No scars,” she continued, intent on filling the dead air with her useless rambling to make the lonely room seem a bit more full as she checked the woman’s pulse, but paused as a faint mark caught her eye. Slowly, she raised the woman’s wrist and rubbed the underside of it; her gloves came away smudged with concealer and a thin line became visible against the woman’s pale skin. Heart heavy, she did the same with the other wrist, finding another faint, dark mark. “Two scars.” 

A small noise, like a sigh, interrupts her thoughts. 

“Hello?” 

Jane Doe frowns, her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, and Meera quickly set down the woman’s hand, leaning forward as the woman’s eyes slowly opened. “Ma’am? My name is Doctor Rana. Can you hear me?” 

She can see the moment the woman wakes up, terror flooding the woman’s eyes a moment before she started to move, Meera’s hands on her shoulders the only thing stopping her from rising.

“Ma’am--Ma’am, I need you to calm down please--”

_“Où-est--qui sont--”_

“Do you understand me, Ma’am? _Parlez-vous anglais?”_

The woman fell silent, eyes still darting around the room in panicked confusion. Meera watched as the woman swallowed, struggling to form a full sentence.

“Why am I here?”

“You were shot,” Meera explained, not daring to let go of the woman quite yet. “You’re at Samson Hospital. Do you understand?” 

The woman’s eyes focused directly on Meera with a blazing intensity, and Meera had the distinct impression that she was being evaluated.

“Um... _ceci est l'hôpital. Vous--”_

“Where am I?” the woman asked again, eyes narrowed.

“You are at Samson Hospital. I promise that I’m telling the truth,” Meera added, seeing fear and suspicion still dominant in the woman’s eyes.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Doctor Meera Rana.” 

“I don’t…” The woman swallowed, grimacing. “I don’t know you.” 

“I don’t know you,” Meera retorted. “But I’ll let go of you if you promise not to try and stand again. You were very badly hurt, and if you try to get up, you will make it worse. Do you understand?”

The woman nodded once, stiffly, and Meera slowly raised her hands, moving to pull up a chair and sit next to the woman instead of hovering over her. 

“Can you tell me your name?”

The woman simply stared back at Meera, and after several moments Meera sighed.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me your name, but I do need to check how well your brain’s working. Do you know your name?” 

The woman nodded, and Meera smiled.

“Good. Can you tell me what month it is?” 

“Dec-December.” 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

The woman fell silent and stiff, glancing around the room’s corners and doorway, her fingers clenching and unclenching on top of the sheets. “I was shot.” 

“That’s right,” Meera encouraged. “Can you tell me more?” 

“Where am I?” 

Slowly, trying to reassure the woman past the concern in her voice, Meera began again. “You’re at Samson--” 

“Why?” 

“You were shot--” 

“I’m not meant to be here.” The woman stared around the room again, as if checking for something. “Why are you doing this?” 

“What am I doing?” Meera prompted, and the woman hissed in something between pain and frustration. 

_“This._ It is cruel for even you--if you are going to kill me, do it.” 

“Nobody is going to hurt you here,” Meera said, making a mental note to call for a psych consult. She’d never done well in psych classes, but it wasn’t hard to see paranoia in this woman’s behaviors. “You’re safe here.” 

The woman shook her head, an almost mocking smile on her face even as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “Do you believe that?” 

“I do. I promise you, you’ll be safe here. Is somebody after you?” she added in an undertone, half serious and half trying to build trust. All the woman’s symptoms seemed to point to some sort of paranoia, but at the same time she had been brought in with a gunshot wound. 

The woman laughed, a rough sound and humorless, and Meera felt, again, as if something very large and complicated was happening. The woman’s eyes drooped again, and Meera leaned back, hoping that the distance between them would help calm the Jane Doe. 

“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve had a major procedure today.” 

The woman’s hand drifted to the bandages on her side, Meera watching closely in case she did something drastic. “Did you do it?” 

“Yes, I did.” 

The woman’s eyes moved sluggishly, but focused on Meera with a fierce intensity. 

“I’ll stay,” Meera said softly, tamping down the urge to hold the other woman’s hand. “If it’d make you feel safer, I’ll stay.”

The woman’s gaze remained on Meera for a long moment, blinking slowly. Then, even more achingly slowly, she managed a single nod.

“Okay,” Meera whispered, watching the woman close her eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meera blinked awake, neck aching from sleeping in the hospital chair. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but then again that’s what 20-hour workdays would do.

It was a moment before she realized what, exactly, had woken her, the sight of Dawn standing bent over the unknown woman strange enough that she hadn’t registered it at first. 

She was out of her usual hospital scrubs and facing away, but was still easy enough to recognize--her platinum blonde hair tied to one side, and the back of her baggy sweater drooped low enough that her tattoo, a horizontal diamond with the symbol from a power button in the center, was visible at the base of her neck.

“Dawnie?” 

Dawn startled and turned, looking at Meera with wide eyes for a moment before her eyes fell on the still-full cup of green tea on the floor.

“You were supposed to drink the tea, Mee.” 

“What’s going on?” Meera unfolded herself from where she’d been curled in the chair, looking between Dawn and the sleeping woman. “Do you know her?” 

“In a way.” Dawn didn’t quite meet Meera’s eyes, and stashed the syringe up her sleeve a bit too slowly. “I was just--” 

“What is that?” Meera asked, grabbing Dawn’s arm when she tried to turn away. _“What is in your sleeve?”_

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Dawn said, “It’s not--it’s not drugs--” 

“Show me. Damnit, Dawn, show me what is in your sleeve,” she snapped, and Dawn winced as Meera’s grip on her arm tightened.

“It’s just--it’s just heparin.” With her free arm, Dawn reached into her sleeve and pulled out the syringe, showing it to Meera. “Not morphine or anything. Just heparin.” 

“Just heparin,” Meera repeated, reaching for the syringe and staring when Dawn snatched it away. “And what the hell are you going to do with a syringe full of blood thinner?” 

Dawn looked anywhere but Meera, like a trapped animal, but her gaze kept falling on the woman in a drug induced sleep. The sleeping woman who had just had major surgery on her liver, and was already at risk for a hemorrhage, even without blood thinner. 

And suddenly Meera understood.

“Dawn, _what the fuck?”_

“You don’t understand--” 

“Of course I don’t fucking understand! You’re trying to _kill_ someone!” 

“It’s not like that, Mee--” 

“That’s exactly what it is! Oh my god, Dawn--” 

“Mee, _please,”_ Dawn said, grabbing Meera’s arm as she started to step away. “There are things--there are ideas that are bigger than individual people.” 

“I can’t believe this,” Meera said, shaking her head and trying to pull away. “I don’t-- _why,_ Dawn?” 

“Just don’t look,” Dawn begged, fingernails digging into Meera’s forearm. “That’s all, Mee, just don’t look. You’re not on duty, these things happen, you’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t look away. Not from _murder.”_

“You have to,” Dawn said, eyes filling with tears. “You have to, Meera. She’ll die tonight, of a hemorrhage because a nurse gave her the heparin meant for another patient, and it’ll get swept under the rug, or she’ll die tomorrow because of your surgical error. You’ll be sued--you’ll be ruined.” 

“Are you _threatening me?”_

_“Please,_ Mee.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Meera,” Dawn said instead, “Meera, this is so much bigger than us--than all of us. This is for all of mankind, for all of the future--” 

“Get out,” Meera snapped, her hands trembling like they were going to break apart. 

“I’m helping--” 

“Get _out, Dawnie!”_ They both flinched at Meera’s raised voice, Dawn letting go of Meera’s arm at last. “Doctor Newmann, i-if you come near me or my patient again, I will call the police.” 

“You really don’t understand,” Dawn whispered, holding the syringe like a shield.

“I don’t want to,” Meera hissed, tears coursing freely down her face.

“Mee--” 

Meera shoved Dawn out the door, slamming the door hard enough to make the room shake, managing to wait until it had shut before pressing her hands to her face. Stumbling backward until she reached the foot of the bed, Meera sank to the floor with her back pressed against it and shook with desperate sobs.

Her best friend had tried to kill someone. 

With the tools they’d both used to save lives, in cold blood, she’d tried to kill a defenseless woman.

It felt like hours before she stood up again, to find Jane Doe staring at her, eyes bleary from the pain medication but with the same intensity that Meera had seen before. 

“I’m not…” The woman coughed, grimacing in pain, and on autopilot Meera poured a glass of water and offered it. The woman didn’t take it. “I’m not safe here.” 

“No,” Meera agreed, finding herself checking the room for cameras or microphones. “I’m sorry, I don’t think you are.” 

The woman shook her head, leaning back into the pillows and shutting her eyes, lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I’m so tired.” The confession was something soft, something thin and something broken, and Meera didn’t think she’d been meant to hear it.

“Okay.” Meera said, more to herself than anyone else. “Okay.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“It’s not safe for you here,” Meera replied, pulling up the railings on either side of the bed. “I don’t understand what’s going on. My best friend tried to kill you and I don’t know why. I don’t know who you are. But your life is in danger and I am a doctor. I swore to help.” 

“I don’t understand,” the woman said, squinting as Meera finished turning off and disconnecting the monitors. “What…” 

Meera took a deep breath.

“I think I’m kidnapping you.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A suicide attempt is briefly referenced in this chapter.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, big brother, it’s just me. Calling to check in. How’s life as Canada’s second-youngest hospital director going?” 

_“...Meera, what’s going on?”_

Meera sighed, leaning on the steering wheel as she glanced back at the tall woman laying across the backseat of her car. She’d pulled a blanket over Jane Doe, and made sure not to disconnect the IV when smuggling her out, but being snuck out of a hospital and then bounced around the backseat of a car was definitely not recommended for someone who’d been shot and stitched up less than 24 hours ago. Despite the drugs still flowing into her system from the IV bag that was now hung from the car strap, the woman was awake but not lucid, making small whimpers of pain.

“Listen,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “Do you remember that time we talked about our extra-special twin bond, and how if I killed someone, you’d help me hide the body and never tell the police?” 

_“...Yes.”_

“I...may have a situation.” 

_“Oh my God, Meera--”_

“Not like that!” she said quickly, wincing as her sudden shout made Jane Doe flinch. “I can’t explain it over the phone, okay? I’m at the service entrance to your hospital, and I know you’re still in because I saw your office light as I drove up. Just come downstairs? Please?” 

Her brother sighed heavily, and Meera bit her lip nervously. 

“Please, Kiran. I could be in a lot of trouble and I don’t have anybody but you.” 

_“Okay,”_ he said finally, and Meera sagged in relief. “I’ll be down in a minute.” 

“Bring a gurney,” she said, and hung up before he could respond.

The woman in the backseat groaned again, sighing something that sounded like ‘cosmos,’ and Meera twisted around in her seat as best she could to see the woman staring at the ceiling, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Hey,” she said, waiting until the woman slowly turned her head to face her. “Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Nng,” the woman groaned and swallowed, eyes sluggishly moving around her. “Car.” 

“Good, that’s good,” Meera said, wishing Kiran would hurry down here. “Where were we before we were in the car?” 

_“L'hôpital.”_

“Good,” Meera said again, her reassuring smile becoming less convincing as the woman groaned again. “Can you--” 

Someone knocked on the window, and Meera nearly leaped out of her skin.

“Meera?” 

“Oh my god, Kiran.” She fumbled with her seatbelt, half-flinging herself out of the car and into the arms of her taller twin brother. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I have had...such a day,” she sniffled, pressing her face into his shoulder instead of trying to hide her tears. “Or 20 hours. Or whatever.” 

“What’s going on?” Kiran pushed her away far enough so he could see her face, and Meera used the chance to wipe the tears from her face. “Did someone hurt you?” 

“No. No, not me, not...physically.” 

“Okay,” he said, clearly unconvinced but willing to drop it for now. “Why did I need to bring a gurney?” 

“That’s…” Meera took a deep breath. “Kind of hard to explain. Did you bring it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Just don’t say anything until we get her inside, okay?” 

“Her?” 

Meera opened the car door, and saw Kiran’s eyes widen.

“What the--” 

“Ma’am?” The woman’s eyes flickered back open, stumbling around the car before meeting Meera’s. “This man is my brother. He runs a private hospital. He’s going to help us and we can trust him. Do you understand?” 

Slowly, Jane Doe’s eyes moved from Meena to Kiran, then back to Meera. Slowly, she shook her head.

“My brother will help--” Meera started again, slower, when the woman’s raspy voice interrupted. 

“You need to dump me,” she said, and Kiran stiffened at Meera’s side. “Make it look like I ran, you’ll be fine--” 

“You told me to do that twice on the way over. Not happening,” Meera snapped, quieting the woman for the moment, before turning back to Kiran. “Can we take her into one of the private rooms?” 

Kiran still looked blindsided, but nodded, pulling the gurney closer and putting its brakes on. “Is she on a board?” 

“Of course she is.” Meera unhooked the IV bag from the car’s ceiling and laid it on the woman’s chest, and Kiran reach under the woman to grab the hard plastic she was lying on.

“What’s her name?” 

“She won’t say.” Kiran frowned, and Meera shrugged, a silent promise to tell him everything she knew later. “Ma’am, we’re going to move you now.” 

“On three,” Kiran said, and Meera nodded. “One...two...three.” 

They moved her from the car to the gurney in a practiced movement, though the woman’s face scrunched in pain all the same.

“The west wing of the second floor’s barely used, we can take her there.” 

“Thank you, Kiran.” 

He shook his head, holding up the IV in one hand and helping to steer the gurney with the other while Meera took the other side. “Tell me what we’re dealing with, injury-wise.” 

“Gunshot wound to the right abdomen--through-and-through, but through the liver. Surgery went as well as could be expected. The car trip was not the best for it, though.” 

“No kidding.” They slipped into the deserted hospital room, and Kiran turned his attention back to the injured woman. “Ma’am, we’re going to move you onto the bed now. On three. One...two…” 

On three, they moved her off the board and onto the bed, a high agonized whine escaping the woman between them. 

“You’re doing really well,” Meera said encouragingly. “We’ll get you something for the pain in a minute, okay?” 

The woman nodded with long, shuddering breaths. 

“Good, that’s really good.” 

“I can’t stay here.” 

“Yes, you can,” Meera said. “This is a private hospital, no cameras. Nobody knows you’re here. You’re safe here, for now.” 

Kiran slipped behind the woman, setting the IV up on the stand and injecting what Meera assumed was a fairly impressive amount of painkiller into it.

“What do you want?” the woman whispered, her eyelids drooping. “From me. What do you…” 

Something ached desperately in Meera’s chest as the younger woman finally succumbed to sleep.

“Okay,” Kiran said, looking at the sleeping blonde. “Meera, _what the hell.”_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fifteen minutes later, Kiran and Meera sat across from each other on the floor of Jane Doe’s hospital room, two steaming mugs between them.

“This is your hospital, Kiran, how can it be so hard to find the ingredients for chai? Mom would be ashamed.” 

“Come on, Meera,” he said, not touching his own mug. “You stalled. Now tell me what’s going on.” 

“I don’t…” Meera shook her head, trying to find a bit of comfort in the familiar smell of chai. “I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling the tears start up again. “I don’t know.” 

“Tell me why you kidnapped her, then.” 

“She’s in danger.” 

“What sort?”

“The life threatening kind? I don’t know. She was shot and left for dead in a parking lot. She almost died on the table.” Meera took a long drink of chai, ignoring the way it scalded her throat. “Dawn tried to kill her.” 

_“What?”_ Kiran leaned forward, nearly spilling his mug. “Dawn?” 

“Yeah, yeah, she did.” Meera tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, blinking rapidly. “I saw her. She told me. A syringe full of heparin in her hand, and thirty seconds from pushing it into her vein.” 

“Oh, god.” Kiran shifted across the floor to Meera’s side, wrapping his arms around her. “Oh, god, Meera.” 

“I just don’t--she’s _Dawnie,_ she-she’s a surgeon, she saves lives, same as me. She’s been my best friend for three years, ever since she transferred to Samson. How could she do this?” 

“Meera…” Kiran shifted, arms tight around her shoulders. “Two people tried to kill this woman in one night. Have you...have you considered there might be a reason why? Did Dawn say?” 

“She tried to,” Meera said, pushing herself up so she could look Kiran in the eye. “But, Kiran, that’s what felt wrong. You know Dawn almost as well as I do. Her mind is always going a hundred miles an hour, she doesn’t stop for anything. If you don’t understand, she doesn’t wait for you to catch up. But she did stop, she was trying to explain it. The only reason she’d stop to explain something would be that she didn’t get it herself.” 

“So you don’t believe her?” 

“I don’t know what to believe,” she said, glancing up toward the sleeping woman. “Something feels wrong about this whole thing.” 

”So don't tell me what you believe. Tell me what you know.” 

Meera leaned into Kiran’s side, grateful for her more logical twin’s grounding effect. “I know that last night, she was shot in the parking lot of the DYAD Institute, and some visitor to the institute was the one who found her and called it in. I know that she crashed on the table while I was operating--I don’t know why. I know that Dawn tried to kill her, and that she threatened to ruin me if I tried to stop her. She said--she said something about a larger cause, about the future of mankind.” 

“Did you ask her about it?” 

“I threatened to call the police.” 

“How did she threaten you?” 

“Kiran…” 

“She tried to kill someone, Meera. I know she’s your friend, but I have to keep you safe.” 

“She didn’t threaten _me,_ exactly.” Meera shook her head, taking another drink of chai. “Just my career. She said that they would blame her death on me if I tried to interfere, and destroy my career.” 

“They?” 

“I don’t know,” Meera sighed. “But it’s just...not right. It’s just a feeling.” 

“Tell me what doesn’t seem right.” 

“Dawn...Dawn was trying to get the case from me from the start. She scrubbed in. She _never_ scrubs in on other people’s surgeries. It seems so obvious now. She tried to get me to give up during surgery…” 

“What?” Kiran asked when she trailed off. “I know that look, Meera. You’re onto something.” 

“She tried to get me to give up during surgery, right before Jane Doe crashed. For some reason, the crash cart wasn’t in the OR. The police were called--they always are, for gunshot vics. But they never showed.” 

“You think that Dawn was right?” 

_“No,”_ Meera said violently, “No, but I think this is something...really big. Way bigger than us.”

“What are you going to tell the hospital?” Kiran asked after a long moment. “I’m sorry, but I think I’ve stumbled across a major conspiracy so I need to take some days off to kidnap a patient?” 

“I don’t know that either,” Meera laughed. “I’ll call and say family illness or something.” 

“Right,” Kiran replied, gesturing to their black hair and dark skin. “Because blonde and pale will fit right in.” 

“She could be our triplet sister,” Meera said, laughing again, Kiran joining her this time. “Nobody’ll question it.” 

The woman groaned and they both fell silent, looking up at the bed. 

“I just wish I knew who she was. What she did for someone to possibly think she deserved to die like that--alone in a parking lot, or in a hospital where nobody knew who she was.”

“What she did to make people want her dead.” 

“I’m sorry, Kiran. I shouldn’t have brought her here, I just didn’t--” 

“You’re my sister, Meera. Of course you should’ve brought her here.” He chuckled, messing with her hair the way he’d always done. “It’s just like when we were kids and you always brought home stray puppies.” 

“And you’d sweet talk Mom so I wouldn’t get in trouble.” 

“Twenty-five years, you’re a renowned surgeon and I’m running a private hospital, and it’s still the same,” he said, looking up as if he could see through the ceiling and up to the night sky. “But this is a bit bigger than a puppy.” 

“You’ll be alright, with this?” 

“I’ll manage. I know you doctors think of hospital directors as cold-hearted bastards focused on nothing but money, but even I can’t turn away a woman who begs to be abandoned.” 

He snorted, taking a drink of his chai. “I can’t believe you pulled the ‘help me big brother’ card on me, though.” 

“You _are_ my big brother.” 

“By one minute!” 

“Still,” Meera said, nudging Kiran in the side. “I”m glad I’ve got my big brother.” 

Kiran kissed the side of her head. “Hang in there, lil’ sis.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

“It’s fine.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Meera gently peeled back the dressings, checking the black stitches while Jane Doe looked away. “I’m going to turn you, now, so I can check the incision on your back.” 

She nodded, and Meera lifted and turned the woman, doing her best to ignore the pained gasp she made, as well as the whimper as she set the woman back down. 

“I’ll get you some more morphine.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“What do you want, then?” Meera asked, as neutrally as she could.

“To know what you want from me.” 

“I can’t want anything from you if I don’t know who you are.” Meera reach for the supplies to clean the incision, well aware of the woman’s eyes on her as she moved. 

“Nobody helps me without wanting anything.” 

“Then I want you to get better. Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Yes.” 

Meera looked up, surprised at such a blunt admission, and met Jane Doe’s eyes, staring at her with a dull, almost tired, suspiciousness. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Meera said, looking down again. “If that’s the way people have been treating you...it must be hard. You must be tired.” 

“You could die.” It was the most exposed the woman had sounded without being on painkillers and in agony, as she had the night before. “If you keep helping me, they’ll kill you.”

“If I stop helping you, _you’ll_ die,” Meera pointed out, cleaning the incision. “What makes my life worth more than yours?”

The woman fell silent, and Meera didn’t push, simply redressing the wound and backing away.

“You don’t have to tell me your name,” she said softly, clearing away the gauze and wipes. “But is there anything I can call you? A nickname, or…?” 

“Joan.” 

“Joan?” Meera asked, surprised. 

_“Oui._ Joan Deer.” 

“You’re not even trying, are you?” Jane Doe smirked--the closest Meera had seen to a smile--and Meera found herself grinning in response. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. After what I’ve seen in the past two days, you’ve got reason to not trust me.” Meera shrugged, throwing out the old gauze. “But you have to trust someone, you know.”

She felt the woman’s eyes on her back as she walked around the room, but neither spoke as Meera injected a syringe of painkiller into her IV and Jane Doe closed her eyes.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Meera, are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Meera moved out of the way as Kiran ran in, glancing around the hallway before closing the door behind him. “What happened?” 

“Someone was coming by the hospital today,” he said, tugging Meera away from the window. “Flashing a picture of her, asking if she’d been seen?” 

“What?” Meera glanced toward the woman in the bed before back at Kiran, lowering her voice. “Did they say who she was?” 

“That she was a missing person,” he said, “Nothing more--no name, no mention of who was looking for her. They asked me about you, Meera.” 

_“Me?”_

“Not directly,” he said, hand rubbing Meera’s arm as if he was trying to reassure himself that she was there. “But they asked how you were. They knew you were taking days off.” 

“Shit,” Meera whispered, one hand covering her mouth in panic. “Oh, shit.” 

“Meera, listen,” Kiran said, pulling her a few more steps away from the bed. “Do we even know why they’re looking for her? If she’s even a good person? Is she worth all this?” 

“Of course she is, Kiran,” Meera said, taking a few steps back from her twin. “How can you even ask that?” 

“Because I’m scared!” Kiran said, and Meera was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “This is dangerous. I don’t want to lose you, Meera.” 

“You think I’m not scared?” Meera shot back, frustrated tears springing into her own yes. “I’m _terrified,_ Kiran, I’ve been terrified since I saw my best friend trying to kill a woman. But I _have_ to do this. It’s worth it. I believe that. Saving someone is worth it.” 

“Damnit, Meera.” Kiran made a sudden movement, and Meera flinched, startled, only to find herself pulled into a tight hug. “I can’t even be mad at you now.”

“Yeah, well,” Meera sniffed, holding him as tightly as he was holding her. “I always was the better twin.” 

“Don’t push it.” He sighed once, then pulled back without letting go. “I can’t stay, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And Jane,” he added, nodding toward the bed. “I’ll use the secret knock we came up with as kids when I come in, okay? Don’t let anyone in, don’t leave.”

“I’ll be fine. Go run your schmancy private hospital.” 

Kiran squeezed her arms once more before ducking out of the room. Meera didn’t have to look into the hall to know he was looking over his shoulder as he walked away.

“You believe that?” 

“Oh God.” Meera turned to face the bed, one hand on her chest. “Don’t do that. How long were you awake?” 

There was something in Jane Doe’s gaze--something that wasn’t suspicion, fear, or a drug-induced haze. Meera softened and crossed back to the bed, perching on the very edge of it.

“You believe...this is worth it?” 

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” 

“You said…” Jane Doe swallowed and grimaced. “You said I needed to trust someone.”

“I think you do.”

“I said that to someone, once.” 

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

Jane Doe blinked, looking at Meera with something like wanting to hope. The expression on her face was familiar, but it took Meera a moment to place--she’d never seen it on someone younger than 70. It was like expressions she’d seen on the faces of some of the people she’d worked with when she’d volunteered at the nursing home in high school--the soldiers, the survivors, the people to whom life had not been kind.

The people who were more than exhausted, the people who had nobody left.

The people who had stories and no one to tell.

The people who just wanted to be heard.

“I think I do.” 

“Okay,” Meera said, pulling up one of the hospital’s visitor chairs so she could sit next to the woman. “Take your time,” she added, as the other woman opened and closed her mouth, searching for a starting place. “I’ll wait. I’ll listen.” 

“I was supposed to die for her.” 

It’s not how Meera expected the story to start.

“Is that when you got shot?” 

She nodded, looking at the ceiling instead of Meera. Meera got the feeling she was seeing someone else entirely. “I am--I was protecting a family.”

“Your family?” 

“Hers,” Jane Doe said. “Not mine. But mine to protect for her.” 

Meera didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue. _She sounds so lonely._

“I couldn’t...I hurt them. I hurt her. I love her and I hurt her. Again and again, when I was meant to be protecting them. They didn’t trust me. I was the same as the hunters in their eyes, so they closed ranks, and I couldn’t--I tried, but still, I couldn’t--”

The woman started to shudder, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth, and Meera reached out gently, laying her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“I became a danger,” she explained, pulling away from Meera’s touch slightly, hissing in pain. “One faction wanted me dead, and they knew where she and her sisters were. I wasn’t loyal to the faction because I needed to protect the family, and they knew that. I was...I became a liability. If I stayed, they would have used them to get to me. Or me to get to them. They would have hurt them--her. They’ve been hurt enough.” Jane Doe began to trail off at the end, a mixture of hatred and exhaustion in her voice. “I hurt them enough.” 

“So you let them kill you,” Meera whispered.

“I tried.” Jane Doe laughed, a short, hollow sound, before wincing in pain. “Do you know, this is the second time I have not managed to die? What does that say about me?” 

“I think it says the universe isn’t done with you yet.” 

Meera wished she had something to follow that up with--something profound and earth-shattering to heal all of this woman’s wounds--the physical and the non-physical. But she was a trauma surgeon. She knew that after something had been broken, there was no quick fix.

But there was always a way to start.

“Listen,” she started, then stopped, noticing the flush that was starting to creep up Jane Doe’s cheeks. She’d assumed the way Jane Doe was gasping had something to do with residual emotion, but now that she was noticing the sweat on the other woman’s forehead, she wasn’t so sure. “I’m going to check your incision site, okay?” 

She didn’t wait for an answer before pulling the gauze back, Jane Doe flinching slightly as the tape pulled on her skin.

“Oh, God damnit.” 

The last time Meera had checked the site, the skin had been scabbed and puckered around black stitches, but smooth around the site and, most importantly, healing.

Now the skin was bright red, swollen, and burning hot to the touch. Meera pressed the skin and the woman moaned, doing her best to shrink away from the probing fingers.

_“Shit.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so blown away already by the response this story's had. A massive, massive, thank you to everyone who's read and commented so far, and of course my beta Noelle who you should all follow on tumblr at lesbianchristmasangel.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and criticism is encouraged. Thank you, again, for reading <3


	3. Three

“How is she?” 

Meera shook her head, setting the thermometer on the bedside table. 

“103, up half a degree. I’ll give the penicillin a few more hours to try and make a dent, but…” 

The woman on the bed moaned, frowning in the throes of an uncomfortable fever dream, and Meera reached down and straightened her blankets, anxious to do something with her hands.

“Meera, this isn’t anything you could’ve seen coming. Infections are common with this type of injury. You did everything you could to prevent it.” 

“I know.” 

“This isn’t your fault--” 

“I _know_ that, Kiran,” she snapped, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “How could it be my fault? I’m one of the best trauma surgeons in the province. I’ve been caring for her exclusively since I brought her here, since I’m hiding in her hospital room. She’s been getting the best possible care, given the circumstances. This isn’t my fault.” 

She stepped back, watching the spikes of Jane Doe’s heart rate on the monitor. “I wish this was my fault.” 

“Meera…” 

“This isn’t fair. I want to fix this. I want to just...take out the bad parts and stitch it up and make it well.” 

“I know.” Kiran was looking at her with big understanding, pitying eyes. Meera looked away. “You’re a surgeon. Of course you do. But you can’t just reach in and fix everything, Meera.” 

“But I don’t even know her name.” It was a stupid, childish detail, but one she kept coming back to. “She doesn’t deserve to die with someone who doesn’t even know her name. She took that bullet to save some family, and they don’t even know that she did it.” 

“What can you do about that?” 

Meera blew out a long breath. “I don’t know. Something.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I need you to calm down, okay? You’re very sick. You’re going to hurt yourself. _Vous êtes blessé._ Um, _détendez. S’il vous plait.”_

The blonde woman struggled against Meera, staring past her at something only she could see. Meera shushed her as best she could, murmuring nonsense until the woman finally quieted, eyes still moving as if she was watching something. Meera brushed a few locks of Jane Doe’s hair off her forehead, making a mental note to wash the greasy and slowly-curling hair.

The fever had been ebbing and flowing, but never totally leaving, and the redness was only spreading over Jane Doe’s abdomen. Kiran was trying to figure out a way to get stronger antibiotics, but they were harder to steal than even morphine, director of the hospital or no.

They were running out of time.

“Isn’t there anyone I can call for you?” Jane Doe’s fingers twitched, and Meera gently rubbed the moving hand. “Isn’t there anybody you want with you?” 

“Cosima.” 

“What?” Meera leaned forward, Jane Doe’s fever bright gaze meeting Meera’s. “Is--is that a word? A name? Do you want me to bring her here?” 

“You can’t let Cosima come.” The woman grabbed Meera’s hand, stronger than she should’ve been able to. “You can’t let Cosima see.” 

“Why not?” 

“It would hurt her.” She shook her head, not breaking eye contact with Meera. “I can’t hurt her. I can’t, not again, I…” 

She sighed, her eyes unfocusing again, and Meera sighed too, sitting there with her hand wrapped up in Jane Doe’s until the other woman’s breathing eased into even, sleeping breaths.

Meera opened Facebook on her phone and searched the name _Cosima._

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jane Doe’s fever was down to 102 and she was sleeping again when Kiran slipped in, glancing around the hallway before coming in entirely.

“Are things okay here?” 

“I wasn’t abducted and neither was she,” Meera said, already shrugging on her coat. “Can you watch her for a while?” 

“Where are you going to go? There are strangers in suits making passive-aggressive comments about how you haven’t been seen at work lately,” he added when Meera didn’t answer. “You can’t just walk around!” 

“They’re not going to expect me to just walk around, so that’s what I’m going to do.” 

“There is no case of cabin fever so severe--” 

“It’s not about cabin fever.” She stopped zipping up her coat to show Kiran her phone.

“Cosima Niehaus?” he asked, “A white girl with dreads? What does she have to do with anything?”

“Her mom’s black, it’s in one of her pictures,” Meera said, taking the phone back. “Anyway, Jane Doe said ‘Cosima,’ the only name she’s said. It’s not a common name, so I looked her up. There’s one person with that name in the area, and it’s not our Jane Doe.” 

“So you think she knows Jane Doe?” 

“It’s the best we’ve got.” 

“How are you planning to find Cosima Niehaus?” Meera looked at her phone instead of him. “Just wandering the streets, looking for dreadlocks?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Meera, listen.” 

“You’re going to try to talk me out of this.” 

“Yes, I am.” Kiran grabbed her arm as she tried to duck around him. “Meera, I’ve figured it out. We both know that this is about Dad.” 

“I don’t want to--” 

“You never want to talk about it. And I get it. But Meera, don’t risk your life so this Jane Doe can have a good death.” 

“I have to do something,” Meera said, pulling away from her brother. “You know I have to.” 

“I’m on your side,” Kiran said, “I’m always on your side. Just come back safe.” 

“Always, big brother.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meera crept back in after midnight, and Kiran grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug.

“I didn’t find her, Kiran.” 

“Okay. That’s okay. Thank God you’re okay.” 

“I’m going to go look again tomorrow.”

Kiran’s arms tightened around her, and for a moment she thought he was going to fight her on this.

But all he said was, “Okay.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the end it was coincidence.

Meera was shivering and was smelling more like antiseptic than usual thanks to the hours spent at Jane Doe’s side, so when she saw a bright pink storefront advertising sweet-smelling soaps and lotions, she allowed herself the indulgence of ducking inside.

And found herself looking at the face she’d been looking for.

“Hello! Welcome to Bubbles. First time customer?” 

“Um,” Meera said, trying to reconcile the pink and bangs with the dreadlocks and glasses that dominated the Facebook profile picture she’d based her search off of. “Aren’t you--” 

“Alison Hendrix? Yes, but just because I’m school trustee now doesn’t mean I’m going to give up the family business! I find it really helps form connections in the community, and our communities are as much our families as our loved ones at home.” 

“No, I mean--” Meera took out her phone and pulled up the picture she had saved there. “Cosima Niehaus. You look just like her.” 

Alison Hendrix’s face went very, very stiff. Her polite smile almost looked like it was going to shatter.

“Who?”

“Cosima Niehaus.” There was no way, after a reaction like that, that this woman didn’t know who she was talking about. “I really need to find her.” 

“I’m sorry, I have no idea who that is.” 

“Please.” Meera took a few steps closer to the counter, and Alison took a few steps back until she ran into the display. “If you know her, or know someone who knows her, please, I just need to find her.”

“I can’t help you. I don’t know who she is.” 

“I know you do.” Meera was tired, and frightened for her life, and very quickly getting angry. “I really need to find her--it’s not for me, it’s for someone else, and I don’t have time for whatever is going on with you and this Cosima girl, whatever it is.”

“I think you need to leave.” 

“I’m not going to,” she fired back. “Help me find Cosima Niehaus. I’m not leaving your store until you do.”

Alison looked at Meera, and the door behind Meera, and seemed to come to some sort of decision. She opened her mouth, and Meera let herself hope for a moment. “Helena!”

“Yes, _sestra_ Alison?” The voice was thickly accented, and nothing like what Meera expected to hear.

“Could you escort Mrs…?” 

“Doctor. Rand.” Alison’s face, if possible, got even stiffer. 

“Doctor Rand into the back room, please? I need to make a phone call.” 

“Yes.” The woman--Helena, presumably--came out of the back room, frizzy blonde hair framing yet another version of Cosima Niehaus’s face. Meera had a moment to wonder, not for the first time in the past four days, what the hell she’d gotten herself into, when Helena took her arm in a vice-like grip and steered her into the back room.

“Are you Helena?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m Meera. Do you know Cosima Niehaus?”

Helena gave Meera a searching look, closing the door to the back room and locking herself in it with Meera. “Why do you want to find Cosima Niehaus?”

“I have a, uh, friend who needs to see her.”

“Who is this friend?”

“Um…” Meera bit her lip, looking at the predatory way Helena stood in front of the door. They were in a room full of soaps and lotions, and she had the distinct feeling that Helena could kill her with any of them. “I don’t know her name. I just know that she really needs to see Cosima.”

Alison’s high, panicked voice filtered in through the closed door. “Doctor Rand...I don’t know, she’s--ethnic. Dark. I’ve never seen her before!....No, just Cosima. She didn’t mention you.”

“Is Alison your sister?” Meera asked, as Alison’s footsteps led away from the door.

“We are all _sestras.”_

“Is Cosima your _sestra?”_

Helena went silent, staring at Meera while Meera did her best to stare back. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a trauma surgeon,” she said, resisting the urge to stand up and pace or to try and break down the door. “When people get hurt really badly, I do my best to fix them.”

“Surgeon.” Helena drew out the word, rolling it around her mouth like candy. “You slice people open and rearrange their insides.” 

“Yes,” Meera said, doing her best to hold Helena’s gaze. “But only to make them better. I’m a doctor. I do my best not to hurt people. I fix them instead.”

“Do you want to fix this Cosima?” Helena cocked her head to the side like a child as she asked, and was much better at pretending not to know Cosima Niehaus than Alison was. Not good enough, but better.

“No. I...tried to fix someone who loves Cosima, very much. But she’s very, very sick, and she’s by herself, and I think that, when someone’s very sick, they should be with people they love.” Meera felt like her skin was strangling her with the need to do _something,_ not sit here and talk with this feral woman. But talking seemed to be working--Helena frowned, as if considering, and opened her mouth to speak.

Three sharp knocks on the door stopped her, and Meera nearly growled in frustration. Helena stood and opened the door, revealing prim and proper Alison holding out a blue phone.

“Someone wants to speak to you.”

Meera snatched the phone, shouldering past Alison and out of the back room as she did. “Are you Cosima Niehaus?” 

_“No,”_ said a feminine British voice on the other end of the line, and this time Meera did growl. _“What do you want with Cos?”_

“How many of you sisters am I going to have to explain this to? You’re the sisters, aren’t you?” she added when the woman on the other line was silent. “The family?”

_“Who told you about us?”_

“A dying woman.” 

“Who?” The British woman sounded impatient, but frankly, Meera was even more finished with her.

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me her name, which is not too surprising seeing as there were three attempts on her life in the four days I’ve known her--all because she was protecting a group of sisters she wouldn’t tell me anything about. Trying to give her life for a family that wasn’t hers.” 

She could hear the other woman breathing. _“...What does she look like?”_

“Tall, blonde, French. Bullet in her stomach.” 

_“Damnit,”_ the woman sighed. _“Yeah, we know who she is.”_

“Are you Cosima Niehaus?” Meera pressed, knuckles white around the phone. “Can you get me in touch with Cosima Niehaus?”

_“I’m sorry,”_ the British woman said, and Meera was ready to throw the phone into a wall. _“I’m sorry, but there are people after us, I can’t--”_

“Did you not hear the part where she is _dying?_ Or the part where she did it for all of you? You’re the mother bear, you’re trying to protect everyone, I can tell already. But she was protecting you. You have to do this for her, at least.” 

_“Why do you care so much?”_

“Because…” Meera swallowed, blinking hard. “Because nobody deserves to die without someone who loves them.” _Because my father died alone and unknown and he was an ass but didn’t deserve it._

_Because it was my fault--a petty teenager who ran away, who Daddy had to go out and bring back, only his car went into a ditch--and I never forgave myself. Because I can’t let that happen to anyone else._

“And because if she fought, she might live. But she needs a reason, and she doesn’t have one. I can’t give her one. Cosima was the only name she spoke,” she pressed, hands trembling on the phone. “So if you know her--if you are her--please. At least come see her.” 

_“...I’ll talk to Cos,”_ the other woman said at last, and Meera nearly dropped the phone in relief. _“It has to be her decision, but I’ll talk to her.”_

_“Thank_ you,” Meera said, her voice quivering. “If she decides to come, this is the address…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meera ran an ice cube over Jane Doe’s lips, encouraging the semi-lucid woman to swallow the moisture left behind. It was simple care, the sort of thing that family members were meant to do more for their comfort than the sick loved one’s, but without a way to get stronger antibiotics or a way to encourage the woman to fight, it was the only thing for Meera to do.

Jane Doe turned her head away, and Meera felt her heart sink a little more.

Someone knocked on the door four times, in the pattern she and Kiran had thought up as children. Meera set the ice cube in a dish before opening the door.

“There’s someone here to see Jane Doe,” Kiran said, stepping aside to let Meera slip into the hallway and close the door behind her.

The woman in the hallway was another one with Cosima Niehaus’s face. She was thinner than the photos, her eyes dull with worry instead of bright with laughter, but the dreadlocks and black glasses matched the Facebook photos much more closely than the frizzy blonde or the soap-shop woman did.

“You’re Cosima Niehaus?” 

“Yeah,” the woman said, managing a smile as she shook Meera’s hand. “Sarah--the British woman you spoke to on the phone?--she said you were Doctor Rand.” 

“Just Meera. He’s also Doctor Rand, so it can get confusing. The woman--Sarah--said you know our Jane Doe?”

“Yeah, tall, French, and blonde? With…” Cosima’s smile changed, becoming both more genuine and sadder. “Some really great hair? Straight, o-or curly?” 

“It was straight when she came in, though it’s starting to curl now,” Meera said, her smile matching the brunette’s. She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved that she’d finally found Jane Doe’s Cosima, or guilty and sad at having to deliver bad news. “Listen, Ms--” 

“Just Cosima, please.” 

“Cosima. I have to prepare you--she’s in very bad shape.” Wishing there was a chair in the hallway, Meera shifted into Doctor-mode. “When she was shot, the bullet entered here--” She indicated a spot on her right side, “And went through her liver. The liver is very big--” 

“I’m a scientist,” Cosima said, cutting her off quickly. “I’ve been to anatomy class, I’ve done autopsies. Just say it. I can handle it.” 

“Okay,” Meera said, glancing at Kiran before starting again. “Like I said, the bullet went through her liver. One of her ribs was broken, but a metal plate was installed to help stabilize that. She had a lot of internal bleeding from the start, though we were able to get that under control in surgery. But she developed a severe infection. The antibiotics we have her on aren’t doing much. We’re doing our best to get something stronger, but considering how those are regulated, and that we’re keeping her here in secret--” 

“It’s hard to get them, I get it,” Cosima said, trying to look around Meera and into the room. “I’m sorry, I just...she was fine, y’know? Just a few days ago, I saw her, and I thought something was wrong but I didn’t say anything, and then she just dropped off the radar, and I thought she left me again, but she didn't, she’s dying, and I…” She trailed off, fiddling with one of the rings on her hand, before looking up at Meera with eyes that looked like they were seeking some sort of safety. “Can I see her?” 

“Of course,” Meera said, “That’s why I went looking for you, after all. Just know that she might be sleeping, and if she’s awake, she might not be totally lucid.” 

“Okay.” Cosima kept glancing toward the room, hands twitching like grounded birds. “I just...I need to see her.” 

“Okay.” Meera stepped aside, and Cosima darted past her, only to stop short in the doorway once she’d opened the door.

“Oh, God.” Meera wanted to look away when she saw the brunette’s eyes fill with tears, but the agony was still overflowing in the brunette’s voice, impossible to ignore. “Oh, God, _Delphine.”_

Jane Doe--Delphine--had fallen asleep while Meera and Cosima talked in the hallway. The sick and dying were meant to look a certain way when they were sleeping. It was repeated again and again in literature--how they looked innocent, or pure, or like angels without their wings, fair and holy. Meera had dismissed that long ago, after her she lost her first patient, because death was never really accompanied by beauty. The harbingers of death were yellow jaundice, or white pus, rasping voices and clotted blood, nothing poetic about it.

But she saw something divine and beautiful in Delphine for a moment. Not because of the way the woman herself looked--she was blonde and clad in white, but her lips were cracked and her hair hung in greasy clumps--but because of the way Cosima looked at her.

She could see the universe in Delphine, reflected in Cosima’s eyes.

Cosima crossed the room in hesitant steps, perching on the edge of the chair Meera had pushed up next to the bed. “I can...I can touch her, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Meera said, and Cosima nodded, but her hands remained in her lap, twisting one ring over and over.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” she said suddenly, the words meant for Meera even though her eyes never left the sleeping blonde. Meera wasn’t sure how she ended up as a confidante, some strange third party in this love story, but she stopped to listen. “She--Delphine--she’s the strong one, you know? The mysterious French woman who either makes everything better or ten times worse. And she’s a _bitch,”_ Cosima half-laughed, no real condemnation in the insult. “She got involved in some shady shit, she did some shady shit, she lied to me. She broke my heart and I shut her out and…” She shook her head, taking a deep breath that turned into a cough. Instinctively, Meera offered her a box of tissues that the brunette waved away.

“I’m sorry. None of this shit is any of your problem.” 

“Well, I did choose to kidnap her, I’d say that got me involved.”

Cosima giggled wetly, startled. “Yeah, you did. Good to know a predisposition to reckless behavior isn’t limited to my siblings.”

Delphine shifted in her sleep, and Cosima made a sudden jerky movement, as if she’d started and then stopped herself from reaching out.

“Sarah said that people tried to kill her three times?”

Meera nodded, even though Cosima still wasn’t looking at her. “That I know of, yes.”

“Tell me.” 

“I’m not sure that--”

“Please.” Cosima’s voice trembled on the word, even though her eyes were dry from what Meera could see. “I need to know.” 

“Okay,” Meera said, jamming her hands deep in her pockets. “Um, the first time is fairly obvious--she was shot and left for dead in a parking garage. The DYAD Institute’s, if that means anything to you.” Judging by the way Cosima’s jaw tightened, it definitely did. “Uh, in surgery, she crashed for unknown reasons, and the crash cart was gone. I can’t prove that someone caused her to crash, but the missing cart was probably deliberate. The third time…” Meera’s throat seemed to close on her, the image of Dawn with a syringe still fresh in her mind. “The third time, I interrupted someone trying to induce a hemorrhage with heparin. The anti-coagulant.”

“And this?” Cosima gestured at Delphine. “The infection, couldn’t it have been planted? Engineered?”

“I’m sorry,” Meera said, and she truly was, because she could see the way Cosima was aching for someone to fight, to blame. “I think this was chance.” 

“Fuck that,” Cosima whispered, folding in on herself as her anger had nowhere to go. “Fuck.” 

“I’m sorry,” Meera said again. “We’re doing everything we can. But if she doesn’t fight--” 

“Do you want to know something funny?” Cosima interrupted, not waiting for Meera to respond. “I’m dying. I’m the sick one, I’m--I’m supposed to die first. I’m supposed to die first,” she repeated softly, and Meera felt her heart break just a little more for this young woman. “This isn’t right, this isn’t--this doesn’t feel real.” Cosima shook her head, like a child when a bad thing happens and they don’t understand why. “If I touch her, it’ll make this all real.” 

“I think…” Meera swallowed down her own emotions as she looked at the couple, a few inches apart but so far away from each other. “I think she needs you now.” 

Delphine’s hand lay on top of the white sheets, pale and unmoving. Like approaching an injured animal, the brunette’s hand, bright with rings and bangles, inched forward.

As if cradling a cracked porcelain doll, Cosima took Delphine’s hand.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, Delphine. It’s me. I’m sorry, I just...I-I’m sorry it took me a while, but I came for you. Can you...do you want to come back for me? Please?” 

Nothing happened for what felt like endless minutes, Cosima murmuring phrases that were lost to Meera’s ears, and then Delphine’s eyelids fluttered.

“Hey,” Cosima said urgently, all but crawling into the bed. “How-how are you feeling?” 

“Cosima?” Delphine’s eyes opened slowly, roaming over Cosima’s face like she was searching for a trap. “How...You--you came?” 

“I’ll always come for you.” Delphine untangled her hand from Cosima’s to lay it against the brunette’s face. Cosima leaned into the touch. “I always will.” 

“Cosima,” Delphine breathed it like a prayer. “Cosima.” 

Cosima started to sob, her hand overlapping Delphine’s like she was terrified to ever let go, and Meera quietly left the room.

“You always were a crybaby,” Kiran said when he found her in the hallway a few minutes later, slumped against the wall with tears streaming down her face.

“Shut up,” she said, though she didn’t resist when he slid down the wall to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“C’mon. What would Dad say if he saw his daughter, famous trauma surgeon, crying over a reunion?”

“Do you think she’d forgive me?” she asked, looking at the tile instead of him.

“For crying?”

“You know what for.” 

“Meera,” he said, something in his voice making her look up at him. “I don’t think he ever blamed you.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If there are any signs of infection-- _at all_ \--you need to get to a doctor, okay? That includes redness, swelling, tenderness--”

“I am an immunologist, Doctor Rand. I can recognize infection.” 

“For the last time, Delphine, it’s Meera.” Meera stood in the hospital room that had become incredibly familiar over the past week and a half with Cosima and Delphine, and a British woman with another version of Cosima’s face. This new woman was apparently the Sarah she’d spoken to on the phone, several days ago now. Sarah was the only one scowling--even though the former kept shooting Delphine worried looks and the latter was in a wheelchair, a pillow pressed into her side to splint her wound, Cosima and Delphine were both smiling.

“Still. Miraculous recovery or not, you need to be careful. You’re all going to need to keep a close eye on her.” 

“Don’t worry, we will.” There was something sharp in Sarah’s voice that made it sound like a threat, but grudging gratitude and admiration in her eyes when she looked at Delphine.

“Thank you, Meera.” Delphine looked up at Meera, the awe and gratitude Sarah gave Delphine unwillingly freely given to Meera by Delphine. “I’m sorry you got involved in this.” 

“Hey, none of that.” Careful of Delphine’s injured abdomen, Meera leaned down and embraced the blonde. Delphine only hesitated for half an instant before hugging her back. “Take care of yourself, Delphine. Even when you’re taking care of everyone else.” 

“Stay safe, Doctor.” Delphine held Meera’s gaze for a few moments longer. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, thanks for sticking your neck out for these two,” Sarah said brusquely, her hands already of the handles of Delphine’s wheelchair. “Now forget we were ever here.”

“Good luck, mother bear.” Sarah scoffed, the first sign of a smile creeping onto her face before beginning to steer Delphine toward the door.

“Cos, you coming?” 

“Yeah, in a minute. You guys go ahead.” 

Sarah and Delphine left, and Meera turned around, alone in the room with Cosima.

“Listen,” the dreadlocked woman said as soon as the door shut again. “Sarah doesn’t want you getting any more involved in this shitstorm, but the way I see it, you’re already in up to your eyeballs. So here.” Cosima held out a blue phone, waiting until Meera took it. “My number’s in there. So’s Delphine’s, and Sarah’s, though she doesn’t know it. If you get in trouble someday, give us a call.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to--” 

“Kinda do,” Cosima said with an apologetic grin. “This shit is pretty dangerous. And we owe you--I owe you. You saved Delphine’s life, which pretty much means you saved mine. So you need anything, you call.” 

Meera turned the phone over in her hand, trying to find words to put to the mess of emotions she was feeling.

“You’re clones, aren’t you?” 

Cosima laughed, a full, genuine laugh, before engulfing Meera in a hug.

“Bye, Doctor Rand,” she said as she pulled away. “We’ll do our best not to be in touch.”

The blue phone in Meera’s hand felt like a promise that they would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...so entirely overwhelmed by the response this story has gotten. I cannot thank you all enough, I just hope that this last chapter is satisfactory. To everyone who commented, left kudos, or has just read this story...thank you. Thank you so much. And of course, a massive, MASSIVE thank-you to my beautiful beta, Noelle, without whom this story would've never seen the light of day. Follow her on tumblr at lesbianchristmasangel--she deserves it.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at probablytatiana. Thank you all, so much, again.
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate titles for this work include: "CAN'T SOMEONE BE NICE TO DELPHINE FOR ONCE" and "I did not intend to get so attached to an OC" 
> 
> Liked it? Hated it? As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and criticism encouraged! Bug me on tumblr at probablytatiana if that's more your style. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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